The Path to Forgiveness
by SliverOfHope
Summary: Prompt: "Wheatley returns from space and meets up with Chell." Android!Wheatley and Chelley implications. c: Enjoy!


**A/n: Disclaimer:** I don't own Portal or its characters.

Yes, Wheatley is an android in here. (In case of confusion.)

Here's my first attempt at a half-way decent Chelley fic. This one was a request from BlueWolfie17 on deviantart: "Wheatley returns from space and meets up with Chell.") and _lawd_, it came out longer than I even expected. ._. 5 pages on my Word and 2,175 words, actually. Anyway, please read and enjoy. c:

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It was inevitable, but honestly, crashing back to Earth hurt. A lot. Amidst the fire and smoke, he'd lost track of Space Android, and had barely enough time to calibrate himself to land somewhere close to some sort of civilization. A teeny tiny town to be exact. The shockwave he caused upon impact rocked the town's buildings, but nothing came out to inspect the cause of the quake. Wheatley pulled himself up, inspecting his head and limbs. A bit charred, but intact. He thanked the Aperture scientist that created him for designing his body to be comprised of indestructible synthetic skin, bones, and hair, as well as the special **[redacted]** titanium that made up his glowing chest piece.

Wheatley brushed his hands over his body, dusting it off, before wiping his glasses free of dust and grime. His lab coat was tattered and filled with holes and he was missing his shoes and socks. His pant hems were singed and still smoking a little. The fabric over his luminescent core was torn, revealing the inhuman device. He fumbled with his lab coat's buttons, trying to cover himself a bit more to appear plain human.

"Bloody clothing," he grumbled to himself, "always getting all torn and dirty and…stuff. Ugh!" When finally satisfied with how he looked - lanky, beaten up, exhausted, and a bit dead in the eyes, he figured - Wheatley began to stroll into the town. A limp impeded his gait. He'd gained it most likely from being free of gravity for who knows how long, and it seemed that his limbs became even more lean and long than usual. His knobby joints and pointy shoulders seemed to agree. He tried not to think about how awful he looked as he searched for some sort of human life to tell him just where he was.

The town was a wreck closer up. Wheatley's glowing blue eyes scanned over the wreckage of carts, cars, bags, toys, baskets, electronics, and whatnot, noticing the same pattern: everything was perfectly clean, left on the ground as if they were dropped and simply left there during the day. Yet there were no signs of human life, just an unnerving stillness and empty buildings without lights to illuminate the night.

Curiously, Wheatley sniffed, thinking that perhaps he'd notice evidence of life - sweat or food or anything - in the air. He coughed as he inhaled a sharp and familiar stench: neurotoxin. So _Her_ reach even came out to here, it seemed. He knew what happened to the town's humans. They were either new test subjects or dead.

Despaired and feeling exhausted due to the trip from space to Earth, Wheatley leaned against a wall near an alley and sighed. He needed to figure out what he'd do now that he wasn't tied to Her anymore. He couldn't go back to Aperture that much was for sure. His days of science and testing were long over.

"Testing," he spat, looking bitter, "what a lie. A terrible, terrible lie. I never want to test again. Not on anyone. And not for that itch." He shivered a bit, bits of remorse painting his face as he relived his time hooked up to Her chassis. Wheatley never wanted any of that to happen. The cruel testing, the influx of chemicals injected into him as his prisoner was forced to solve test after test, the look of hatred on her face, the betrayal… he'd never wanted any of it. But he couldn't change what he'd done, as much as he wished he could, and he was forced to live with the consequences of his idiocy.

Wheatley slid down the wall into an awkward half-seated, half-crouched position, his gangly legs nearing his ears. "What to do?" He wanted to think, but he was too impatient to plan for the long term, and after a few moments of hesitation, he groaned and threw his hands into the air. "What do you humans do all day?"

"Not sit and mope about things, for one," answered a soft and hoarse voice.

Wheatley leapt up, flailing and simultaneously smacking himself in the face with his forever arms. The noise that came out of his mouth closely resembled a squealing piglet. "Wha-? Who's there?" His voice cracked a bit.

A chuckle sounded from the alley a couple feet away from him as a response. He knew that chuckle from somewhere, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He flicked his flashlight on (he wouldn't die doing so, he knew now), the core in his chest lighting up brilliantly. Creeping closer to the alley's entrance, he recognized the sound of scraping boots and cans of human food sliding around on the ground. "H-hello?" Wheatley stuttered.

There, sitting cross-legged with a slight, lopsided smile on her pretty face sat Chell, bits of sauce on her cheeks and a fork stuck deep in an aluminum can, presumably of the same substance on her face. The flashlight's glow made her wince a bit, but that smile never left her lips. She nodded her hello, patting the ground next to her and offering the can to him.

Stunned, Wheatley sat, obeying her in a trance, staring dopily at her. "N-no thanks, love, I don't eat, er, human delicacies. Y'know, being sensitive to food and all." He eyed the can warily, knowing how humans would eat 'food' that'd probably end up killing them eventually; if they didn't die from testing, that is. "But, can I ask, wh-what are you doing here, in this situation, now, sitting here now, exactly?"

She shook the can and raised an eyebrow, expecting him to already understand this motion as 'eating, duh.'

"Yes, well, I can see that. I mean, what are you doing here? Now? How'd you get here? And," he peeked behind her a bit at the heart-stamped cube he'd only just now noticed, "how'd that get here?"

Chell shrugged, not bothering to speak anymore or explain.

Knowing he wasn't going to get another word out of the usually mute woman, Wheatley resigned himself to sitting in silence, trying to figure out how fate stuck them in the same place, devoid of life sans themselves, after everything in the past had gone so terribly awry. He wondered what Chell thought of him now. Did she hate him? It didn't seem so. Smiling doesn't usually entail hate, and she didn't seem to be trying to kill him, so that was a plus. But how could she not hate him after all he'd done? Everything he put her through was horrendous and he was embarrassed to even think about it all. By all means, she should probably be strangling him or blowing him up by now. Yet, for some reason, she wasn't.

"Er, love?" Wheatley decided it was best to just get it over with and ask. "Don't you hate me?" Fidgeting, he waited patiently for her to respond.

Chell chewed slowly, as if she didn't hear, and then swallowed. She tried to offer Wheatley more of her food, seeing as how he was so skinny and malnourished looking. She knew he didn't actually need food to stay alive being an android and all, but he still possessed a slightly human body with some slightly human needs. She attested part of his lankiness to his never eating.

"No, that's okay, I don't need anything, really," Wheatley insisted, waving his hands at the can. Chell looked irritated, and at that, Wheatley finally took the can, looking at its contents miserably. She handed him her fork. "To be honest, this doesn't look edible. Are you sure this won't kill me?"

Chell rolled her eyes, an expression Wheatley wasn't too familiar with. He didn't know if that was an affirmative or not, so he guessed, and took a bite of the mushy brownish food. It tasted okay. Not too great, but not gross either. He swallowed and licked his lips. His stomach grumbled for the first time ever and he nearly passed out in surprise.

"What was that? I'm dying, aren't I? You do want to kill me!" Wheatley panicked.

Chell, however, coughed and tugged on his sleeve to calm him down. He sighed, mumbling a curse at the sound. The woman gestured to her stomach and tapped it a bit.

"Yours… does it, too?"

A nod.

"That's… okay, I guess." Wheatley took another bite of his mush; feeling incredibly starved all at once. He finished off the can in a minute or so.

Looking at nothing in particular, Chell smiled a little. It was nice to be with someone after so much loneliness, even if that someone had been tainted and brainwashed to be a psychopathic, science-obsessed, killer moron. Actually, Chell missed being with Wheatley. His aid in her almost-escape from Aperture was incredibly helpful, and a bit comical at times. Until the chassis incident, she really enjoyed being alone with the gangly android, and she was glad for someone to help and guide her through tests for once. Sure, his sudden fit of undeterred anger had frightened and hurt her at first, but it didn't take very long for her to understand that the real Wheatley wouldn't do or say anything the warped one did. Although, she figured, warped was quite an understatement. He'd gone absolutely off the rocker, and handling his rage and misguidedly crazy taunts, jibes, and puzzles was extremely tiring and trying on her sanity.

Not to mention the not so obvious health hazards included with Wheatley's foolish power trip. He'd neglected to ensure the chambers were filled with the proper amount of oxygen and such, causing Chell to become weak and dizzy more often than not. Occasionally, he'd forget to let her rest and eat, so her fatigue increased while her ability to successfully advance through the test chambers decreased. More rage at her lack of performance meant less attention paid to her environment, which sent the whole vicious cycle through another spin again. There wasn't much winning then, Chell surmised.

Though the taunts themselves didn't bother Chell all too much - seeing as how She poked fun at her nearly all the time - the fact that it was Wheatley, her first friend in 9999-, the first person she'd ever trusted as an adult, that hurt more than anything she could imagine. Turrets and Thermal Discouragement Beams be dammed. To say that her mind and spirit were broken was putting it lightly and in nice words.

But here she was, smiling at him, offering him food, and letting him stay as if nothing had happened between them. Really, she had no idea why she was doing what she was. Maybe it was the look on Wheatley's face as he asked if she hated him, sad and broken. Maybe it was her own traitorous heart fluttering faster as she looked at him. Maybe it was even the lack of insanity in Wheatley's eyes, the black streaks that poisoned their blue depths gone and the chassis wires distinctly missing from his back.

Speaking of his back, Chell tapped his, making sure to poke every circular metallic bit in it that poked out of holes in his shirt and lab coat. There were six of them total, in pairs, lining down his back, and they were about two inches in diameter. The last time Chell saw them, Her toxic wires were linked into them, using Wheatley as a puppet.

The android jumped a bit. "Ah, yeah, those, they burn now. I think their circuitry is all wonky from being ripped from the chassis, but I guess it's best that way."

The woman nodded, eyeing the angry red skin around the metal circles with sympathy.

"I don't suppose you want be with me very much right now," Wheatley mumbled out of nowhere.

Chell took that moment to give him a slightly shocked look, before scooting closer to him. He instinctively leaned away a little, but she pulled him back to her, linking their arms and resting her head against his upper arm. His flashlight was almost as warm as his body, and it sent pleasant shivers through Chell's body. She really did miss him immensely.

Wheatley was silent for the longest time, letting her rest against him and enjoying her company. He loathed himself still, however, and was trying to fight off ill thoughts that kept insisting that he was a dirty scoundrel and that Chell wished him dead. He remained silent. His clenched jaw was the only sign of his discomfort. He opened his mouth to ask if she still harbored any smidgen of revulsion of him, but Chell's slender finger on his lips shushed him before any sound made it out of his throat. Her gentle grin almost completely soothed his worries.

He wanted to ask if he was on the path to forgiveness, but one way or another, Wheatley knew the answer: it was that he was forgiven before he'd even touched back on Earth. That in itself caused the android to smile into the darkness.


End file.
